


Whumptober 2019

by Siegrrun



Series: Lady Indigo [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Non-Graphic Violence, References to Illness, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26269147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siegrrun/pseuds/Siegrrun
Relationships: Diana Falas (OC)/Addah Draggon(OC), Jernax Persago (OC)/Grace the Valiant (OC), Nieman (OC)/Barbara(OC)
Series: Lady Indigo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908568
Kudos: 3





	1. Day one - "Wake up"

There was a reason Nieman took all the patrols, even the non-existent ones. 

It wasn't to keep the ship safe. Well, not entirely. Because as much as he wanted to keep Lady Indigo guarded and ready for attack, his main reason was slightly different. 

When he was patrolling, he didn't have to sleep.

Nieman couldn't sleep. Well, he could, technically, he just didn't enjoy it as much as he used to.

But human body can only take so many unslept nights before it finally collapses, drained from all the energy.

And so, whether he liked it or not (he didn't), sooner or later (preferably later) he ended up sprawled across the bed.

And he dreamt.

Of her. Of her smile. Her big brown eyes. Her raven black hair. The peaceful look on her face, when she slept on his lap and long shadows her eyelashes spread on her cheeks.

Of her blood, glinting slightly in the sunshine slipping through the curtains. Of the weight of her body, when she laid limply in his arms. Of her skin drained from all the colour. Of her hair wet with his tears.

And he repeated to himself like a mantra. Like a prayer. "Wake up". 

Wake up.

A dagger buried deep in her body. 

Wake up.

A fragile figure hitting the ground, like a rag doll tossed away. 

Wake up.

Blood sipping out of the deadly wound. On the floor. On the carpet, she chose herself with such excitement. 

Wake up.

Life fleeting out of her big doe-like eyes.

Wakeupwakeupwakeup.

Wake up!


	2. Day two - Explosion

Tabrissa didn't make mistakes when it came to her explosive babies. Ever since the spectacular fiasco at the University, she double - no, triple - checked everything.

So it was impossible for the timer to malfunction.

The timer, of course, didn't care what she thought was or wasn't possible and malfunctioned anyway, little bastard.

They felt the ground shake, heard a great "KABOOM!" and watched in horror as the whole building collapsed in on itself surrounded by flames.

It would be spectacular if it wasn't for one tiny, little, itsy bitsy detail. Addah was still inside.

Tabrissa stood frozen as Diana and Nieman dashed into the burning building in a search of their fallen teammate.

She couldn't move when they disappeared behind the flames.

She couldn't move when they emerged back, carrying limp Addah between them. Or when they laid him down in the safe distance from the fire. Or when Isabelle rushed forward, medical kit in hand, brows knitted together. 

Addah was lying there, impossibly still, impossibly pale. 

Angry red burns too visible on his ghastly face. 

It took her a second to notice the rise and fall of his chest. A second that made her blood run cold and heart stop in anticipation for the worst. 

It took much longer for Isabelle to give a verdict. Too long, in Tabs' opinion as she didn't seem to breathe properly until she heard it. Until she knew he'd be alright.

She heaved a deep sigh of relief.

He would be ok. He would be just fine. Just peachy.

It was a miracle, really. Or she'd call it that, if she believed in miracles in the first place.

As it was, she settled for "luck".


	3. Day three - Delirium

There is a simple unspoken rule, known by every human on Earth. When you get sick, you go to the doctor. Easy as that.

The real struggle begins, however, when it's the doctor who gets sick.

Because what are you supposed to do when you find the ship medic, sprawled across the floor, unconscious, running a fever? 

No, "panic" is not a correct answer.

But Jernax did panic, just a little, when he saw her in this state - unmoving, unresponsive, at first glance looking... Well... Dead.

He rushed to her, feeling his blood run cold, praying to the gods he didn't believe in.

She was alive, thank... Somebody.

He cradled her in his arms as gently as he could. She murmured something softly as he lifted her. He could feel heat radiating from her whole body, through his shirt.

That wasn't good. That was far from his definition of "good".

He took Isabelle to her cabin and laid her on the bed.

He moved to find something, anything that could help ('She must have some medication somewhere in here' he thought, panic gripping his throat), when he heard her voice - quiet and weak, and barely above a whisper.

"Mum?" she asked. "Mum, don't go."

There were unshed tears audible in these words and Jernax felt his heart sinking.

"Mum, don't leave me. Please... Please" her voice got weaker with every broken word with every plead for her mother to stay.

Jernax blinked away the tears. He needed to find the medication. Fast.


	4. Day four - Human shield

It all happened so fast. One second they were standing on the pavement, Diana laughing at some stupid joke (and gods, he could listen to her laugh for an eternity and he wouldn't have enough of it; he'd never have enough), and the next he was lying on the ground, a bleeding hole in his abdomen.

He wasn't sure how it had happened. Everything seemed fuzzy. Memories lacking. Thoughts unclear. 

He only knew that he had heard the gunshot and shoved Diana out of the way. Which had caused him to catch a bullet himself.

"You moron!" he heard distantly. "You absolute idiot!"

He forced his eyes open (never, in his life had he thought of a task this hard) and squinted at the blinding light.

He saw Diana's face, hovering above him, but it was out of focus. Unfortunately. He wanted to see her clearly. So, so badly. 

Everything was soft around the edges and he felt so... Weird. Detached. 

And then the pain hit.

And he did not feel detached anymore (and he instantly missed it).

The pain radiated from the wound in agonising waves, cutting off all the other senses.

He felt hands pressing on the injury and it was all he could do not to cry out.

If he had enough mind left in him, he'd know it was for his own good. But as it was, he writhed away from the hands, trying (and failing miserably) to escape the pain.

Dark spots slowly covered his vision, dulling the agony, bringing peace.

He welcomed the darkness with open arms.


	5. Day five - Gunpoint

"Give me the code," the tall man smiled with what probably was supposed to be encouragement, but turned out more like an impatient sneer, "and we'll be even. All will be forgiven and everyone will go our separate ways."

Diana repressed the urge to spit in his face. She's long forgotten how annoying the man in front of her could be. Instead she settled for a short "go to hell". Classic. To the point. Perfect. 

He looked at her disapprovingly.

"Come on, Diana, don't make it harder than it needs to be. I just want justice." she couldn't suppress a snort and was awarded by a smack to the face. Totally worth it. "I lost my ship because of you. It's only fair for me to take yours. Now, give me the code."

She stayed silent this time, putting all the hatred and stubbornness into one single look.

She must have succeeded for the man huffed, irritated and turned to her crew, lined up and held at gunpoint by his people in front of them.

Diana tensed and opened her mouth to try and bring his attention back to herself, when she heard his next words.

"At the count of three, shoot the small one."

The gun was levelled at Tabrissa'a forehead.

Diana felt her blood turn to ice and before she could even think about it, she shouted:

"Wha- No!"

She could hear the others protesting too, but their efforts were quickly stomped down. 

He looked back at her, cold triumph in his eyes.

"Give me the code" he said calmly, glee audible in his voice. "One."

She pursed her lips, thinking, trying to think of some way out, without giving away Lady Indigo. Her amazing, beautiful, beloved ship.

"Two."

She shot Tabrissa a panicked glance, taking in her pale skin, furrowed brows and closed eyes as if in anticipation. The guard's finger twitched on the trigger.

'You get attached too easly' she remembered the words from so long ago. 'It'll cost you dearly one day.'

And maybe it was true. But she couldn't let her best friend die.

She saw the man open his mouth to say the last word, but this time she was faster.

"Fine!" she screamed and then sagged a bit, defeated. "Fine. You win. Just... Just let her go. Let them all go."


	6. Day six - Dragged away

Grace could very easily blame it on her lack of experience in being a queen. Or the incompetence of her guards, who had let her wander off without protection. 

But the truth was that she let her guard down and didn't pay attention to her surroundings.

So it was only her fault. Not that she'd ever admit it out loud.

She was enjoying her day off, walking around the market (just like she used to before she became the queen), even more so when she finally menaged to lose the ever-present guards in the crowd.

Without them, she could pretend, just for a second, she was an ordinary girl again. That she didn't have the weight of a whole country on her shoulders.

She liked being a queen, being able to finally make a difference in the world. But sometimes, just sometimes, she missed simpler times.

She sighed softly, looking (but not really seeing anything) at the merchandise.

Then she felt something heavy collide with her scull.

She saw dark spots and noticed that the ground was nearing dangerously.

Strong hands grabbed her around the waist, pulling her upright and roughly dragging her somewhere.

She tried to fight. To break free and make a run for it.

But she was weak, her limbs seemed detached from her body, unmoving, her head was lulling on her chest, too heavy to lift. 

She had trouble keeping her eyes open.

A cold panic gripped her throat.

She couldn't move.

She couldn't even scream. 

She was absolutely helpless, at mercy of whoever was dragging her with them.

And she was about to lose consciousness.


	7. Day seven - Isolation

Jernax didn't like being alone. Not one bit.

He supposed it was better than physical torture - there was no blood, no pain; just him and his thoughts - but he knew what they were trying to achieve. And they were succeeding.

The absolute silence surrounding him was nearly deafening. The ringing in his ears didn't show any signs of stopping, making everything worse.

He sat on the uneven, very, very uncomfortable ground, trying to think, to focus, to find the way out.

Nothing came to mind.

He sighed, trying to get comfortable. He failed miserably.

It didn't take long for him to get sick of this place.

In a matter of minutes he was wriggling on the ground.

After an hour the ringing in his ears grew louder. 

Not long after he started humming some unnamed melody, hoping to fill this absolute silence.

After what seemed to be nearly two hours he was all but ready to start crawling at the door until his fingers started bleeding. Until he got out.

When few more hours passed, he'd do near to anything to get out of this cursed prison cell. To see another human being. To hear something other than this ever present silence he didn't seem to be able to fill, neither with humming, talking or downright screaming. Nothing worked. 

The tears were the unwelcome, but not an unexpected guest.

He didn't bother to stop them.


	8. Day eight - stab wound

The best part about the knife is a sharp end. This opinion, unfortunately, changes diametrically, when you're on the wrong side of the blade, Diana thought bitterly, clutching her side.

She stumbled in what she hoped was the direction of the door. She could vaguely remember this corridor, but her memory was, to put it mildly, in shreds.

So was her sense of direction, logical thinking and ability to walk straight. 

All in all, she was basically like a drunk toddler in the dark.

Not the best metaphor, but she couldn't care less.

She could feel warmth of blood on her palm, the vital fluid soaking through the fabric of her shirt, slipping through her fingers and staining the floor.

She was moving terribly slowly, one bood-soaked hand pressed firmly against the wall - the only thing keeping her vaguely upright.

She'd sigh in annoyance if every breath she took wasn't an agony. Absolute agony she rarely felt before. Her side was on fire and walking most definitely did nothing good for her condition.

Isabelle would never let her live that one down, she just knew it. Diana could practically hear the lecture about to come.

Or maybe she did hear it already, the voices muffled somewhere in the back of her head. She must have finally started to hallucinate out of bloodloss. Weird feeling, she mused.

It took her a long second to notice she stopped walking. And that in front of her were the doors, open wide and letting blinding light into the corridor.

She let go of the wall to cover her eyes. Red blood glimmered in the sunlight.

She decided that it was not her smartest move as she started swaying on her feet.

The ground grew dangerously close and she heard a scream, as muffled as the rest of the voices, and then somebody's arms were all around her, lying her down gently, pushing her hand away from the wound.

She screamed and arched her back, trying to escape the hands pressing on the injury. She started blindly fighting whoever was on her, scratching, biting, punching, doing anything in her power to run. It wasn't much power, mind you. But she did her absolute best nevertheless. 

Somebody pinned her hands down, held her head.

And through the mist of pain and her own panic, she heard reassuring voices. Familiar voices. Safe voices.

She slowly relaxed, feeling the hands pinning her down let go reluctantly.

She knew, somewhere deep in her troubled mind, she found her way to safety. Found her way back home.

She finally let the darkness envelop her completely.


	9. Day nine - Shackled

The screams had died down some time earlier, but they were still echoing in Tabrissa's head.

The silence now enveloping the room was broken only by little pained whimpers coming from the other side of a cell, where her friend had been unceremoniously dropped and chained.

The sounds were coming more rarely now as Diana seemed to regain at least some control over herself.

But every time Tabs heard the pained notices, she tugged stubbornly, though uselessly at her shackles.

Her wrists were hurt and bloodied from when she earlier trashed in her chains, desperately trying to get to her best friend. Her throat was scratched from screaming, although she supposed she had nothing to complain about compared to -

There was shuffling and rattling of chains, and another muffled whimper escaped Diana's mouth, as she propped herself up against the wall.

Tabrissa could hear her fastened breathing, basically gasps for air and she wished the light in the cell was better so she could at least see the extent of injuries.

As it was, she had to settle for verbal communication.

"Diana?" she asked, unsure how to put her worries into words. "Are you... Are you alright?"

It was a stupid question as Diana was as far from alright as Depression from independence and Nieman from happiness, but what had been said had been said.

She expected a sarcastic comment, some snarky response, but all she got was a silent hoarse voice, saying:

"'m fine." 

Normally Diana Falas was an excellent liar, being able to sell a dead raccoon for a not small amount of money. 

That being said, her words now were such an obvious lie, Tabrissa cringed. 

Diana must have realised it too, because she put an effort into lifting her head and smirking, and even though it also was an act, it did help to release a cold grip of fear in Tabs' stomach. Not enough, not nearly enough, but it still brought a slight relief. 

"We need to find a way out" she said, trying to distract them both. 

Diana let her head prop against the wall with a small sigh. 

"Yeah" she murmured, her voice barely audible, the words slurring. "Jus' giv'me a sec t'get m'self t'geth'r." 

Tabrissa bit her lip anxiously. 

"Fine. But don't... Die on me, alright?" 

The answer was a little huff of laugher that quickly turned into a wet cough.

She tugged at the shackles again, the pain in her wrists exploding anew.

No use.

But there had to be a way out of there.

There had to be.


End file.
